CHAPTER 31
In Kiowa's dream, he dismounts Night Wind. When his moccasins touch the ground, it is not fire at all, but solid earth. He tries to move his legs, but they won't budge. Unsure of why or how, he finds himself firmly planted.
All around him towering trees sprout like tiny stems that continue to grow up into the sky. His horse neighs and runs off, leaving the warrior all on his own.
"Night Wind, come back! Do not leave me here!"
Leaves of every kind sprout out of extending branches. It frightens him that they grow so quickly.
What if one sprouts up through my feet and skewers me like a fish? He wants to run, but his feet refuse to obey him.
"Well, this is some strange end to a great warrior. Good-bye, painful world." Storming clouds billow across the blue heavens. Their ash color blackens the sky. His skin grows cold as rain pelts against his body. He struggles back and forth. Whether he wants to or not, Kiowa must stand. Try as he might, the only appendages that work are his hands and only in the slowest motion, despite his best effort.
Off in the distance, he sees lightning crackle. Rising waters swell up to his knees and cause him to shiver. Short bursts of lightning explode, and the earth shakes. With each clap of thunder, long, wiry electric strands cut loose.
"Maybe this beautiful red lightning will touch me and bring my sudden death with an exciting kiss."
Rather than succumbing to fear, he chooses to accept his fate. He rests where he has always rested, on courage. He bends down, dips his fingers in the mud, and presses them to his cheeks. Swiping down, he draws three distinct lines. One for his father. One for Paw. One for him. When he looks at his fingers, he sees no mud at all but leaves. Hmm…no one will fear me with leaves on my face, he thinks, trying to wipe them off. The more he fights, the more the leaves work like a virus and spread all over his face and chest.
Off in the distance a powerful burst of light materializes and hovers in the sky. Whatever it is, it moves with the intelligence of life and is the source of all the lightning. He observes as its electric-white silhouette hovers toward him. It begins to take form. He can see that it is a woman, and he strains to make out the woman's face, feeling overwhelmed with happiness when the apparition reveals herself to be none other than Anoki.
He gasps. "Have you come for me, sweet Anoki?"
Her clothes are no longer made of buckskin and beads. Her long, flowing gown is as bright as the stars. She cups her hands and retracts the lightning. With some strange magic that Kiowa cannot begin to understand, Anoki uses her power to shape the lightning into a ball. With a gentle kiss, she blows it to him. As it approaches, branches of blue, white, yellow, and red lightning crackle off and touch the trees. They start a fire that he cannot run from or put out. He is defenseless.
The supernatural ball of energy hovers in front of his face and does not harm him. It twinkles and gyrates like a star. He licks his dry lips and can't resist the urge to touch it. He reaches up. His hands and arms are covered in withered leaves.
"What is this strange magic?"
When he extends his finger, a crackle of lightning connects. The greatest love he has ever felt overwhelms him. It feels like a tidal wave washing over his body and cleansing his soul. Warmth as powerful as the sun blankets him and makes him feel like he has finally found his place in the world.
"I am home."
A heavy wind blows hard against his face. He feels his leafy skin flutter with the breeze. When he finally summons the courage to touch the blinding light, it blasts his body apart into thousands of leaves, scattering him to the wind.
He sits up panting. He's breathing so hard he can't breathe. His chest heaves. His heart beats like a drum in his ears. He looks at his hands. Turning them back and forth he can see that they are now flesh. He smiles, clasps his hands together, and shouts, "With all my heart, I love you, Anoki!" He immediately regrets this and covers his lips with clasped hands. He carefully tiptoes over to the flap of his tepee and flings it open. It is late into the night. No one could hear him scream. Not even the night watchman pays attention to him.
"I know what that energy is," he says to himself, leaning back in his tepee. "It is the most potent happiness I have ever felt, and Anoki is the source of it. She is my home!" Kiowa closes his eyes and savors the images from his vision. But what do the leaves mean? Was Kida right? Will Anoki blast me apart if I do not truly love her? Or will I be blasted apart if she does not truly love me? he frets.
"If only my loving thoughts could travel faster than sunlight to sweet Anoki. Then she would know how I feel. I would ride to her"—he dips his finger in a red line and draws it up his arm—"and steal her away." He grins as he uses black paint to draw a horse on his arm.
Would she even wait for me? He presses his hand in the yellow paint and smears a circle on his chest. If I do have any real magic, I cast a spell on her that she will wait for me. He grins wildly at this thought. That would be true power. As my magic rests here in my pouch, it is useless to me. It only protects me in battle. He sighs, then leans back. His body is a tapestry of emotion, manifested in color and strange images.
Several months pass, and sure as the frost melts, snowstorms turn to spring rains. Kida's words come true. The men go off to hunt. War parties raid. Most warriors return; Weasel Tail doesn't. Kiowa comes back with a harder and harder look in his eyes as he's thrust into the Indian warrior ways. War wipes his eyes clean of the pure innocence his youth preserved. The gentleness of his jaw chisels to a sharpness and makes his face insanely handsome. Each hunt and feast expand his muscles. First in his chest. Then his bulging biceps. Finally, his round shoulders look exactly like his father's. Kiowa's physique is a compliment to the man who sired him.
As time goes on, widows' death rattles rally the tribe. People mourn. People dance. People sing. The tribe is always on the move. Always going forward, never backward. Children of age take the warriors' places and help with the war parties and the hunt.
True to his word, Kiowa is there for all of it. He fights. He hunts. He kills. He carries a burden he never asked for. His only solace is the intense love he feels for Anoki growing stronger. The swirling emotions twist inside him like hurricane winds in his vision. And like hurricanes, his emotions grow stronger with each passing day. Each day of winter is more bitter without her. Snowflakes fall and freeze icicles on the trees. When he looks at the daggers, he can feel their icy pain. Not even spring eases his suffering. While all the animals are pairing off, finding love, and making children, he is alone. To the eyes of his tribe, he acts as one who is mortally wounded, since he always rests in his tepee. But those same watching, prying eyes spy no wound.
In the early part of summer, Paw cautiously enters Kiowa's tent.
"You are breaking many hearts," Paw informs Kiowa, cutting to the quick.
"They are breaking mine!"
"They want children. They want love." He looks down, then smirks. "I want children. Maybe we could go find women together and make an army of children."
Kiowa half smiles at his uncle's joke.
"I'm serious. Imagine a tiny wave of little warrior rabbits charging the enemy. They wouldn't attack because children are too cute. They are guaranteed to win."
"I have fulfilled my obligations to the tribe. You cannot ask me to marry when I do not love. Even Kida knows it is wrong."
"I know. This is why I am here. My raids have been successful. We have plenty of buffalo hides, jewelry, horses, and other things to trade with the Hopi. It is a good time for a trip. We usually trade about this time anyways, so I thought you might want to come…"
Before Paw can finish his words, Kiowa leaps to his feet and comes to life. All at once he is healed. He grabs his bow, his arrows, and a bundle of furs he uses for a bed. "Why are you sitting here, Uncle? Let us go get Anoki!"
Paw laughs. "And I thought you would need to be persuaded."
A word: Ever have a vision? I have and it changed my life. Kiowa's changed his life. Now he has the faith and excitement to go do something about it. I had the faith to write this story for you even though you and I have never met. It my joy. What joy has your faith, your vision, your hope brought you?